


flowering like the stars

by WISHBONE



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Lost Time, M/M, Reunions, S01E01 The Rise of Voltron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9404654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WISHBONE/pseuds/WISHBONE
Summary: Of everything I have seen,it's you I want to go on seeing:of everything I've touched,it's your flesh I want to go on touching.I love your orange laughter.I am moved by the sight of you sleeping.Keith, the night he saves Shiro.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two days before season 2 (which also killed me) when I rewatched the pilot and basically realised that they stage Shiro's rescue mission at night and the next scene is morning and the fated "how did you know to come save me?" which signed my life over to this ship.
> 
> Also Shiro changes clothes lol.

Between them, Keith and Hunk manage to lay Shiro down on the mattress which occupies the single bedroom in the shack that Keith has made his home. Dimly, Keith hears the quiet click of the door as Hunk exits, it barely registering in the face of Shiro before him. Here. Home. _Alive._

Keith settles on his knees beside the bed. His hands shake as he raises them to Shiro’s face. Even sedated as he is Shiro doesn’t look peaceful. His brow is furrowed, his lips twisted into a faint grimace. The scar which cuts his face is raised to the touch, the angry pink of it a stark contrast to the rest of Shiro’s skin which, even after all these months, retains a soft tan. Keith’s breath catches in his throat. _What happened to you?_

He pushes one hand into Shiro’s hair, dirty and brittle, to raise his bangs from his forehead. He allows the other to drift further down Shiro’s face, settling at the bolt of his jaw. Shiro sighs softly, seems to turn ever so slightly into the touch and Keith’s eyes burn in response. He squeezes them tightly, breathes deeply through his nose and out through his mouth like Shiro taught him, and moves to remove Shiro’s shoes and worn socks. He cannot help but cradle the delicate arch of each bare foot for a moment before he lays them back on the bed. He rises and cuts open the ragged over-shirt which Shiro had landed in, threadbare and crusted horribly in places with what Keith suspects is blood. The skin tight bodysuit revealed underneath is an unfamiliar material. _Literally alien_ thinks Keith, with a touch of hysteria. Through it, he can count each of Shiro’s ribs, can see clearly how with each breath his concave stomach rises and falls. Keith forces his hands to steady, and cuts the bodysuit off too.

More scars. Some violent, jagged, remnants of wounds Keith once would have thought impossible to survive, and some precise, clinical. _Experimental_ , Keith’s mind throws up and he has to stop for a moment and breathe again. There are fresh wounds too, badly wrapped with dirty dressing that has stuck to Shiro’s flesh. The stink of infection rises from one or two. Keith steadies himself for a moment then lets his eyes fall on the arm. The seam where metal meets flesh is a gnarled knot of tissue, and where other scars have faded to pink this one remains a distressing red, hot to the touch, utterly dissimilar to the cold, smooth metal of the prosthetic. Keith’s tears do fall then. He is helpless to contain them in the face of what Shiro has suffered.

Keith had planned to wipe Shiro’s body for him. Cleanse him of the grime of space so he could wake up clean and home and happy. He realises now how foolish that had been. What has happened to Shiro has marked him forever, inescapably. Still, Keith sinks to his knees again, grabs the washcloth he had prepared and wipes the grime from Shiro’s face, wets his chapped lips. Throat tight, Keith thinks a furious litany of _I love you, I love you, I love you_ as clean skin is revealed. If he can't erase what Shiro has suffered he can at least try his best to overwhelm it. When Shiro’s face is finally free of grime Keith moves to the rest of his body, soaking the crusted dressings and tenderly swiping at the most stubborn of the dirt. Keith’s heart feels unbearably heavy as he lifts each scrap of bandage from Shiro’s wounds and applies antiseptic with shaking hands. Even unconscious Shiro’s muscles jump under his administrations, despite Keith being as gentle as he can.

When he is finally, _finally_ done, Keith takes the softest blanket he owns and wraps Shiro with it, sinking to his knees. He allows all the tension he's been carrying to drain out of him, folding forward until his forehead hits the mattress. Keith closes his eyes to the sounds of Shiro’s soft breaths, the graze of his fingertips at Keith’s temple. Between one moment and the next, he is asleep.

 

* * *

 

When Keith wakes it is to the gentle brush of cold metal through his hair, across his scalp. For a moment, just a moment, he allows himself to keep his eyes shut, to not raise his head. He breathes deeply, once, twice before turning to face Shiro. In the deep dark of the very early morning Shiro’s eyes are shadowed, soft where they fall on Keith and Keith’s whole chest aches at the look in his eyes. 

“Keith,” Shiro croaks, “why are you on the floor?”

Keith thinks but does not say, _I couldn’t bear to leave you but this is a dream, it has to be, I’ve had it so many times before and it always splinters just as I am sliding into bed beside you and if I woke to an empty bed again I think that may just be what kills me, may just be what makes me fling myself off the nearest cliff--_

“Didn’t want to disturb you,” Keith mutters instead, his mouth still tacky with sleep. Shiro just opens his arms in response, sighs softly into Keith’s hair when he gingerly joins him. Keith tries not to let his weight fall fully on Shiro, picturing vividly his still fresh wounds, but Shiro is warm and sleep soft, in spite of the added breadth of his shoulders, the prominence of his ribs, and when Shiro’s arms come up around Keith’s waist to hold him to his chest Keith is hopeless to resist. Shiro’s heartbeat is steady and strong against his ribs, and Keith feels tears burn behind his eyes as the tiny part of him which still believed this couldn’t possibly be real unfurls. He buries his head in the crook of Shiro’s neck to try and hide them. It’s useless of course, and Shiro’s hand comes up to melt into his hairline, his fingers tracing slow circles.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Shiro whispers.

“They told us you’d crashed, I didn’t believe them but it’s been 18 months Shiro, I thought,” Keith draws a shaking breath, “I thought you were dead.”

Shiro is slow to respond, like he’s tasting the shape of each word on his tongue. “So much is a blur, there are times I may as well have been, I think.” Shiro pauses, his voice is tight and pained when he continues, “Keith I’ve done such terrible things.” 

Keith thinks of scars, of a cold metal arm, of a shirt crusted with blood and sweat, and he doesn’t doubt, but, “You did what you had too.” He doesn’t mention that after a year of barely being able to breathe through his grief, after a year of desperate, hopeless aching, there is nothing that Shiro could have done that wouldn’t have been worth it, for this moment, right now. 

 

* * *

 

When Keith wakes for the second time it is to an empty bed and the harsh light of the desert morning streaming through the holes of his threadbare blinds. All the air seems to leave his body at once, his stomach lurching violently when it fully registers that he is _alone, alone, Shiro’s gone,_ before the faint sounds of conversation trickle in from the main room. Keith shakes his head hard, scolding himself for his kneejerk reaction before pulling himself out of bed and back into his jacket. 

He pauses for a moment to collect himself before he pushes himself through the door where he’s greeted by the mismatched trio that is Lance, Hunk and Pidge bickering amongst themselves. Pidge especially seems aggravated about something. Their presence alone, as irritating as it is, is indisputable evidence that last night truly happened and despite himself, Keith is grateful for it.

“Keith!” Lance cries when he notices him- 

“Shiro, where’s Shiro?” Keith interrupts, voice rough before he can continue any further. He recognises Lance now, of course. A peripheral character from his time at the Garrison, one that he has neither the time nor patience for currently.

Lance gapes at him for long enough that it is Hunk who eventually steps in with an answer, “He’s outside. He... mentioned something about wanting to see the desert again.” Keith can hear the confusion in Hunk’s voice but Keith instantly understands. He thinks of long hours spent racing hovercraft across the dunes, the blistering heat of the sun and the sharp sting of the wind. He thinks of the peel of Shiro’s laughter every time Keith would manage a trick maneuver which let him momentarily overtake him. He thinks of desert nights, the warmth of Shiro’s shoulders as they lay in the sand tracing constellations and later, the warmth of his lips.  
Keith nods his thanks and makes for the door. He hears Lance mutter something undoubtedly unsavoury about him as he goes but pays him no heed. 

Shiro’s stood on the small hill which hides the shack from most prying eyes. He’s dressed himself in an old training uniform from the wardrobe, one of many that Keith had been unable to throw out. He stands straight-backed and proud, miles away from the beaten and broken escaped prisoner of the night before. Keith thinks he’s probably the only person who can see through it, is the only one who notices the infinitesimal tightness of his posture that shows Shiro is favouring his right side, where the largest of his wounds is hidden by the uniform. 

Keith breathes deeply and starts walking to join him, his heart soaring despite himself. In the cold light of morning, Shiro is resplendent.

**Author's Note:**

> i made a voltron blog because i'm a sucker for punishment https://kogains.tumblr.com
> 
> title and excerpt are neruda


End file.
